


Entropy (your life is wired like a broken clock)

by loonatv



Category: LOONA (Korea Band)
Genre: Drabble, Gen, idk what else to tag oof, mentions of blood without it being gory, short and not so sweet, think of the setting in egoist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-30
Updated: 2018-08-30
Packaged: 2019-05-31 05:18:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15112592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loonatv/pseuds/loonatv
Summary: One thing that Hyejoo has come to know about herself is that she has a penchant for asking questions.Questions such aswho?Who was she?Correction: whoisshe?





	Entropy (your life is wired like a broken clock)

 

 

Son Hyejoo remembers no one, not even herself.

She doesn’t remember the eyes staring back at her, tinted a filthy shade of umber and muddled with an emotion akin to regret. She doesn’t remember the slight curvature of her nose as it scrunches up in an expression of disgust, the stench of iron too nauseating for her sensitive sense of smell. She doesn’t remember the set of roseate lips embellishing her heaving sighs of distress with insignificant prayers as she leers at what she supposes is her reflection.

She doesn’t even remember whose blood taints her hands or whose bed she woke up in.

All she recalls are the three syllables of her name:

_Son Hyejoo,_  
_Son Hyejoo,_  
_Son Hyejoo._

At least her memories allow her that much and for that she is glad.

Yet this simple recollection of her name is merely a token of who she was—a reminder that she has indeed existed until this present moment, without a clue of how she got there. The remainder of her identity is hidden from plain sight, isolated in a murky haze of forgotten reminiscences and coated in a fresh layer of fetid tarmac. Hyejoo isn't so sure that she will ever regain any former consciousness of years bygone. She isn't even sure she will remember her current self in the budding hours of tomorrow, sunshine filtering through the open blinds and painting her flesh with fine gold lines. Will the sun still feel as cold and unwelcoming as it did that particular morning? Will her fingers still leave cerise stains along the ivory satin bed sheets that had swathed her sweat-slicked limbs? Will she even still be here, in this rundown house garnished with a fair amount of antiquity?

One thing that Hyejoo has come to know about herself is that she has a penchant for asking questions.

Questions such as _who?_

Who was she?

Correction: who _is_ she?

She is Son Hyejoo and she has blood caked beneath her nails. That much is certain.

Water continues to gush from the gilded faucet of the bathroom sink as she scratches at the creases adorning her palm, ridding her skin of any hint of vermilion (Hyejoo likes to think of it as turning water into wine, though she isn’t that holy from what she can tell).

As she scrubs away the last of the grime from her hands, she returns her gaze to the vanity mirror, noting how her lashes quiver and her lips tremble—she fears something.

She fears that that something is, rather, a someone.

She fears that that someone is her.

Son Hyejoo is afraid that she has brought about her own downfall.

 

 

**(** _Your life is wired like a broken clock and the means to decoding it lurk within the hidden order behind the chaos._ **)**

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> just another drabble, slightly longer than the last. i hope it was interesting!!


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